Knee Socks Ch. 01

"I know you stole my knee sock, didn't you? Why did you do it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to take a shower, it's-it's raining outside."

His panic is so bad he can't stay in the same room with Sarah anymore. He has to run away. Turning around to flee to the bathroom, he hears Sarah slide off the bed and stride out of the room up to him, grabbing his arm with striking force disproportionate to her petite frame.

"Sarah -- let me go!"

Sarah flips the hallway light switch on, hardening her grip on his arm. It hurts. She is gazing at him with dark, unfathomable eyes, her face stern. On a pretty little face with baby fat like hers, such an expression can come off as surprisingly menacing.

"Look at me in the eye, Andrew Larrison. Did you do it?"

This is entirely unexpected. Andrew has no idea what has given him away. For the last week, ever since he got his hands on her precious knee sock, he's been masturbating to it like crazy non-stop, only washing it furtively when he is absolutely certain no one would walk in on him. He doesn't know he's going to keep going at it for how long. How the hell does Sarah know about it?

He thinks he's going to have a breakdown and lie down and die.

Having probably sensed his anxiety, Sarah loosens her grip on his arm, her expression a notch softer.

"Andrew, it's not a big deal, I just want to know what happened to my knee sock. Did you take it?"

Andrew sniffs, biting down on his bottom lip. He peeks at Sarah fearfully, averting his eyes immediately as they meet hers. He knows now. He knows that she knows what he did. The expression on her face has told him everything. She must think he's such a pathetic, disgusting perv-

"Do you masturbate thinking of me? Perhaps my legs? Do you want to touch them?"

Oh God, it can't be.

Andrew lets out a small groan and forcefully turns away, trying to rid himself of her grip. But Sarah is faster than he is. Stepping up and pressing her soft body against his, blocking his way, she leans in, her lips dangerously close to his.

Stunned, Andrew stares up at her, his mouth agape. His twin sister is certainly attractive, her angelic blue eyes, pointed nose and plump pink lips giving her a curiously childish air. He wants to flee away from her and do bad things to her in equal measure.

"Do you, Andrew?"

"...Yes."

This is not him speaking. Some devil must have possessed him. He can't be admitting this to his-

"And why did you do it? Please, Andrew, I want to hear it from you."

"I...I think you're pretty," his brain is a helpless blank. He can smell her familiar scent, coconut or vanilla or something sweet and heady. This is bad. This is really bad.

"And?"

"And..." Andrew swallows. He is getting incredibly hard, "and-"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

He thinks he is going to faint. Without another word, Sarah slowly takes one hand of his and pulls it up, guiding it to around her neck. His cock literally twitches at the contact. She must be feeling it pressed against her thighs.

"I'll take it as a yes," her voice is slow and sweet, "Andrew, this is what we're going to do. You'll play a game with me. You'll learn the rules and we'll see if you can do it right. If you do it right, I'll let you fuck me."

"What...what game?" This is unreal. It can't be happening.

"I want you to be really, really bad to me."

As her voice lowers to a whisper and her grip on his hand around her neck tightens, something strange happens to Sarah's face. It's as if she had been entranced, her eyes staring up at him a bit blank and glazed over, her lips parted, quivering slightly with each shallow breath, an unnatural deep flush spreading across her cheeks. A tingling realization like lightning strikes through him. She is getting off because he is choking her. He is choking his own sister and she gets so high on it that she is going to come.

"Hey, kids, hungry already? Burgundy beef tonight!"

They jump apart instantly as if hit by an electric current. It takes them a few seconds to realize that their father Daniel is not climbing up the stairs, but shouting up at them from the ground floor.

"Alright, Dad! Coming down in a minute!" Sarah shouts back in a barely even voice, her chest heaving. Andrew moves faster than Sarah does this time, diving into the bathroom and bolting the door behind him.

He must come. Now.

*

So, the "talk to Andrew" part has gone slightly differently from what she had in mind.

It's late at night. Sarah lies on the bed in the darkness of her room, half-naked, her eyes closed, her head lolling on the pillow as she slides her buzzing toy in and out of her drenched cunt while massaging her hardened clit. It took her four months to save up enough allowance money for it, but it's worth every penny. Her toes curled up, her head thrown back, she lets out a trembling sigh as orgasm explodes inside her, bringing Andrew's face to her mind again.

She didn't mean to scare or intimidate him. She feels sorry for how distressed he looked at being forced to admit something like that, even though his confession gratified her immensely. But Andrew just does this to her. She is too used to always getting whatever she wants from him, too horny, and too impatient to have a proper conversation with him.

It doesn't mean she shouldn't.

But what the hell happened to her when she made him choke her? Why was she so aroused by it that she almost got off on it, right there in the hallway? She doesn't even do this often with Gabriel. She doesn't know what she was thinking. Does she really think Andrew, shy, introverted and awkward, is actually capable of dominating her?

A thrilling realization dawns on her: she is doing this precisely because she wants to awaken that part of him, for her. She wants to make her brother hers. She is one hundred percent sure that Andrew is still a virgin, knowing that he has never had the courage to talk to a girl for more than five minutes. No wonder he is so obsessed with her.

But they really need to talk.

Fishing out her phone from under her pillow, she clicks open the conversation with Andrew and taps out a message quickly.

'Wanna talk?'

It takes her five minutes to receive a reply. Poor Andrew. He must be really anxious now.

'About what?'

'I want to apologize.'

This time, she doesn't wait long for a reply.

'Apologize for what?'

'Can I come to your room? I want to do it in person.'

Another excruciating five minutes. Sarah is not a patient girl.

'Be quiet.'

Sarah heaves a relieved sigh. Slinking off her bed and across the room, deliberately sliding one strip of her nightgown off her shoulder, she opens the door of her bedroom as quietly as she can, closes it behind her and walks on tiptop to before Andrew's room. The door is slightly ajar. She pushes it wider and sneaks inside, closing the door carefully behind her.

Turned away from her, Andrew is lying on his bed under his covers, as if asleep. Sarah walks slowly up to his bed and sits down on the edge, her bare feet hovering inches off the floor. The rain has stopped, the night deep and serene, the quiet occasionally stirred by a car sliding by outside the window.

"Are you alright?" Sarah whispers. Slowly turning around, Andrew peers up at her, his eyes big and dark.

"Yeah. I guess."

"I'm sorry," Sarah says sincerely. She notices the way Andrew's eyes slide automatically to her naked shoulder and the curve of her body underneath her thin nightgown. She has to admit she's doing it on purpose.

"Sorry for what?"

"I've just been...really rude to you."

Andrew doesn't answer for a while. He draws his eyes away from her.

"It's alright. It's just you."

"Are you saying I can get away with being a shitty person?"

"If you think so. I don't know. You're my sister. That you're shitty or not doesn't change that. You're not...you're not shitty."

A huge wave of relief and warmth comes over her. It's silly, really, to be this grateful for something as ordinary as an assurance that he doesn't hate her, when she's been either ignoring him or cursing him.

"What if I say I can try to be nicer to you? I don't like being shitty to people. It's just...you know, so much stress from school. Mom and Dad can't shut up about my marks and university application."

Andrew shifts under his covers. It looks like he's about to sit up, but then decides against it. Sarah notices he is rolling up his legs for her not to see the tent between his legs.

"I know," Andrew answers after a while, "I can understand."

"I don't know, sometimes I envy you. You don't have to deal with their expectations."

"Because they've accepted that I'm a disappointment, I guess."

The bitterness in his tone makes her want to hold him into her arms.

"Fuck them. You don't have to be what they want you to be. Dad's spent his entire life doing nothing but cooking hellish dishes and emptying Mom's credit card, so who is he to judge."

A smile surfaces slowly on Andrew's face. It makes her smile, too.

"I don't know what I want to be."

"I don't know either. I'm just good at something, so I suppose I should do it."

Silence ensues. Sarah stretches her legs, yawning.

"I'm cold." She murmurs. Andrew says nothing. She can feel he doesn't want her to leave.

"You're being rude to me."

"How so?"

"I said I'm cold but you're saying or doing nothing."

"I'm-sorry, just didn't think-"

"I'm messing with you," Sarah can't help smiling as Andrew flushes. He is adorable. Why was she being such a jerk to him?

"You can say 'come under my covers', for starters," she nudges.

"Alright," Andrew murmurs, "come under my covers."

Sarah climbs onto his bed and slides under his covers. A gentle smell of detergent and something soft and warm known to her only as his envelops her. Her skin is cold against the waves of heat emanating from his body so close to hers.

"Did we really..." Andrew says after a short silence, "did we really-"

"Yeah, we did."

Another pause.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you. I don't think anything's wrong with me, anyway."

She reaches out one hand slowly to find his, squeezing it gently.

"Why do you have to think there's something wrong with you?"

Andrew shrugs. "It's just...people don't do it."

"It doesn't make it wrong."

Andrew moves so quickly and so abruptly that for a moment she is stunned. In the blink of an eye his body, hot, heavy and strong, is already above hers, his solid chest pressing down on her breasts, his hands locking her wrists onto the bed on either side of her head, his hard cock pressed tightly against her lower stomach. He is so big. Sarah can feel his hot, moist and erratic breath on her neck. Not being a sportive type but having a teenage boy's naturally developed muscles, Andrew is perfectly what she needs. She is soaking wet.

"God," Andrew's voice is trembling, and he is panting heavily as if he had just run a race. She can't see his face in the darkness under the covers, "oh God..."

"It's OK, Andrew," Sarah whispers, swallowing hard, "it's OK."

"I should be bad to you."

"You definitely should."

"Very bad."

"Very."

"You'll tell me when to stop, won't you?"

"Promise."

His hands move away from her wrists, up to her neck and tighten around it, slowly at first, almost frantically towards the end. She is once again perfectly pinned down by the neck, the familiar rush of thrill at being so helpless jolting through her as she pants and wheezes, squirming and writhing under him, her fingers tugging feebly at his strong hands, her legs thrashing blindly about. Andrew starts to grind his hip rhythmically against her, his breath as ragged and raspy as hers, his cock rock-hard and burning hot. She wants it inside her, now. But she knows they can't. Not this time.

Abruptly Andrew freezes, and she feels it, the string of his hot cum shooting out from his cock into his boxers under his pajama pants. Gasping and panting, his chest heaving up and down, he stays there for one solid minute before flopping down sideways onto the bed, releasing her neck from his grip, doubling over with his back to her and moaning quietly.

"Oh God, Sarah," he moans, "Oh God-"

"I have to go," Sarah murmurs, still dazed, sliding off his bed almost automatically, "it's late. See you tomorrow morning."

With that, she leaves and returns to her room, careful not to make any noise. Her panties are so wet that she can feel the fabric glued to her entire slit. Having made herself come at least three times with her toy and fingers, she sinks into vivid dreams about Andrew, his hands around her neck, his cock rubbing against her overstimulated clit.

*

"You know there's a new cheese shop at the market? They've got some French cheese and country pâté. We can make a charcuterie board this weekend, what do you think, darling?"

Daniel comments excitedly next morning at the breakfast table in his bathrobes, standing up to hand a plate of fresh pineapple rings over to his wife. Olivia takes two to her plate, smiling up at him.

"Whatever you say, darling. Andrew, don't make that slurping noise when you drink your milk, please."

"Alright, Mom."

"Sarah, you're late."

Sarah emerges into the kitchen, looking a bit worse for wear. She mumbles something indistinct about alarm clock and insomnia, slumping down onto the chair opposite Olivia with a huff.

"Are you alright sweetheart?" Daniel asks concernedly, sitting back down onto his chair after having returned from the kitchen with a new brick of milk.

"Very good," Sarah murmurs, her face blank, her eyes unfocused, "fantastic."

Jerking her head up, she turns to Andrew.

"Can you pass the ham to me please?"

Andrew obliges hurriedly, almost knocking over his glass of milk in the process. His face is deep red.

"In a good mood today, aren't we, sweetheart?" Daniel smiles at his daughter.

Sarah rolls her eyes, "whatever."

"Good to know that you've learned some manners after all," Olivia remarks.

"As if. I'm going to be home late today, math's training session."

"Me too."

Three pairs of eyes turn to Andrew, whose face is still the color of lobster.

Olivia widens her eyes. "Do tell," her son is the typical quiet, introverted teen who's never in trouble but who doesn't seem to be doing anything interesting either. Good to know that he's now involved in some extracurricular activities.

"Um, it's lame, really. The photography club is having an info session, so I wanna take a look at it."

"Lovely! I knew he's got some artistic streak about him. Must be from my dad, God bless him," Daniel exclaims, clearly satisfied.

"That's fantastic. Tell us about it today at dinner, will you?"

"Yeah. I'll try to."

"That's great news," Sarah says suddenly, throwing a piece of ham into her mouth, "I'd love to hear about it too."

Olivia and Daniel exchange a quick glance while Andrew keeps his head down.

"She's in a great mood today, isn't she?" Daniel grins at Sarah, very pleased with himself, "it's all because of my almighty breakfast buffet."

"Oh Dad, please."

Andrew raises his head and catches Sarah smiling at him. He smiles back.

The pineapple on his tongue today tastes sweeter than usual.